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- Джордж Мартин
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This
is
madness
,
he
thought
,
but
sooner
madness
than
defeat
.
Defeat
is
death
and
shame
.
"
Very
well
,
I
’
ll
lead
the
sortie
.
"
If
he
thought
that
would
shame
the
Hound
back
to
valor
,
he
was
wrong
.
Clegane
only
laughed
.
"
You
?
"
Tyrion
could
see
the
disbelief
on
their
faces
.
"
Me
.
Ser
Mandon
,
you
’
ll
bear
the
king
’
s
banner
.
Pod
,
my
helm
.
"
The
boy
ran
to
obey
.
The
Hound
leaned
on
that
notched
and
blood
-
streaked
sword
and
looked
at
him
with
those
wide
white
eyes
.
Ser
Mandon
helped
Tyrion
mount
up
again
.
"
Form
up
!
"
he
shouted
.
His
big
red
stallion
wore
crinet
and
chamfron
.
Crimson
silk
draped
his
hindquarters
,
over
a
coat
of
mail
.
The
high
saddle
was
gilded
.
Podrick
Payne
handed
up
helm
and
shield
,
heavy
oak
emblazoned
with
a
golden
hand
on
red
,
surrounded
by
small
golden
lions
.
He
walked
his
horse
in
a
circle
,
looking
at
the
little
force
of
men
.
Only
a
handful
had
responded
to
his
command
,
no
more
than
twenty
.
They
sat
their
horses
with
eyes
as
white
as
the
Hound
’
s
He
looked
contemptuously
at
the
others
,
the
knights
and
sellswords
who
had
ridden
with
Clegane
.
"
They
say
I
’
m
half
a
man
,
"
he
said
.
"
What
does
that
make
the
lot
of
you
?
"
That
shamed
them
well
enough
.
A
knight
mounted
,
helmetless
,
and
rode
to
join
the
others
.
A
pair
of
sellswords
followed
.
Then
more
.
The
King
’
s
Gate
shuddered
again
.
In
a
few
moments
the
size
of
Tyrion
’
s
command
had
doubled
.
He
had
them
trapped
.
If
I
fight
,
they
must
do
the
same
,
or
they
are
less
than
dwarfs
.
"
You
won
’
t
hear
me
shout
out
Joffrey
’
s
name
,
"
he
told
them
.
"
You
won
’
t
hear
me
yell
for
Casterly
Rock
either
.
This
is
your
city
Stannis
means
to
sack
,
and
that
’
s
your
gate
he
’
s
bringing
down
.
So
come
with
me
and
kill
the
son
of
a
bitch
!
"
Tyrion
unsheathed
his
axe
,
wheeled
the
stallion
around
,
and
trotted
toward
the
sally
port
.
He
thought
they
were
following
,
but
never
dared
to
look
.
The
torches
shimmered
brightly
against
the
hammered
metal
of
the
wall
sconces
,
filling
the
Queen
’
s
Ballroom
with
silvery
light
.
Yet
there
was
still
darkness
in
that
hall
.
Sansa
could
see
it
in
the
pale
eyes
of
Ser
Ilyn
Payne
,
who
stood
by
the
back
door
still
as
stone
,
taking
neither
food
nor
wine
.
She
could
hear
it
in
Lord
Gyles
’
s
racking
cough
,
and
the
whispered
voice
of
Osney
Kettleblack
when
he
slipped
in
to
bring
Cersei
the
tidings
.
Sansa
was
finishing
her
broth
when
he
came
the
first
time
,
entering
through
the
back
.
She
glimpsed
him
talking
to
his
brother
Osfryd
.
Then
he
climbed
the
dais
and
knelt
beside
the
high
seat
,
smelling
of
horse
,
four
long
thin
scratches
on
his
cheek
crusted
with
scabs
,
his
hair
falling
down
past
his
collar
and
into
his
eyes
.
For
all
his
whispering
,
Sansa
could
not
help
but
hear
.
"
The
fleets
are
locked
in
battle
.
Some
archers
got
ashore
,
but
the
Hound
’
s
cut
them
to
pieces
,
Y
’
Grace
.
Your
brother
’
s
raising
his
chain
,
I
heard
the
signal
.
Some
drunkards
down
to
Flea
Bottom
are
smashing
doors
and
climbing
through
windows
.
Lord
Bywater
’
s
sent
the
gold
cloaks
to
deal
with
them
.
Baelor
’
s
Sept
is
jammed
full
,
everyone
praying
.
"
"
And
my
son
?
"
